Meeting the Rugby Coach

It was only his second season as the team's video editor, and his first ever at the state capital's multi-sport challenge, so he hadn't expected the night to tilt so quickly. Two days before their opening game, he and the squad were let loose in the city, and by the time they hit their third bar, he'd lost track of the group--his buzz faded as unfamiliar streets blurred together.

It was in another bar, looking for his team, that he found himself surrounded by a women's rugby team: towering, fearless, their confidence filling the room. He wasn't a large man himself--lean and athletic, but his slender frame lent him an air of elegance rather than raw power, which was part of why he focused on video editing. As he navigated their easy camaraderie under the watchful eyes of their formidable coach, he was struck not by attraction, but by awe at their sheer physical power, marveling at muscle and energy honed for something far more intense than any basketball game he'd known.

Their coach watched him warily for a while, arms folded across her chest, her gaze steady and unblinking. Even among a full squad of prime-of-their-lives rugby players, the coach stood out immediately: an intimidating presence shaped by years on the pitch, tempered now with the realities of time. She carried the heft of a couple decades' worth of post-retirement weight--a solid layer of softness draping what was once pure muscle. But there was no mistaking the foundation beneath: the powerful shoulders and sturdy forearms of a former forward, the posture of someone long used to leading a scrum. Age and comfort had added curves and a bit of a gut, yet the lines of muscle still pressed through, evidence of strength that never fully faded. Her manner--easy but sharp-eyed--suggested she could still drop and run drills with her squad if challenged, even if it left her breathing harder than before.

Eventually, as he nursed his drink at the edge of their circle, she edged closer--her presence almost physically pressing, even in the din of the bar.

"You with one of the colleges?" she asked, her voice low and even, any friendliness buffered by authority.

He nodded, explaining again how he'd gotten separated from his group. She listened, lips pressed in a line somewhere between suspicion and amusement.

"Alright," she finally said, setting her glass down with a resonant thunk, "you can hang around. But let's be clear: don't hit on my players. They're young, they don't need that tonight, and frankly, I don't need the drama."

He shook his head quickly. "No, I agree," he replied. "This has been a fun night, so I'm just happy to do what I'm told."

The barest hint of a smile pulled at her mouth. "Good. Besides, if you did, you'd be dealing with me. And, for the record--" she dropped her tone even lower, "I prefer women, so you can relax. No one will be touching your dick tonight."

He managed a laugh and a grin. "Good to know. Appreciate the honesty."

She gave him a look--half appraising, half approving. "Then you're welcome to hang with us until you find your crew, so long as you remember the rules." Then, in a gesture that was equal parts warning and welcome, she motioned him deeper into their circle, her manner easing just enough for him to sense he'd passed a test.

The night unfolded in a blur of laughter, clinking glasses, and the steady hum of the bustling bar. He found himself drifting closer to the circle that had gathered around the coach, her commanding presence drawing him in as conversations ebbed and flowed around them. Between sips and him dropping a few jokes, the initial formality softened into something more candid, the dim lighting and warmth of the room creating an intimacy and bond.

Later, he had the chance to be alone with the coach on the fringe of the group--their talk displayed her sharp wit balanced by occasional flashes of unexpected vulnerability. As the liquor worked its familiar magic, her guarded demeanor gave way even more. She recounted how her imposing size wasn't just intimidation on the field but something she carried into her personal life, especially when dating. Men often underestimated her, caught off guard by how her strength contrasted with her surprising sexual candor.

"When I dated them, most guys didn't know how to handle it," she said with a sly grin, swirling her drink thoughtfully. "I wasn't just this big, muscular force--there was... a way I liked to get off that threw people. Intimidation wasn't just about size; it was about knowing how to own it, how to take control and still make things electric."

He listened, intrigued by the layers beneath the tough exterior--a woman who wielded power both physical and private, unapologetically herself as the night stretched on around them.

Later that evening, as the bar grew louder and the buzz of drinks loosened more tongues, his curiosity finally got the better of him. Several times he had tried to steer their conversation back to what she had hinted at earlier--how she gets off, what that really meant for her. Now, with the haze of alcohol softening their usual guards, the coach caught his hesitant attempts and decided to meet them head-on.

Leaning in slightly, her eyes sparkling with mischievous candor, she asked, "So... have you ever walked on the wild side or have you been a good little cis-boy your whole life?"

He hesitated, then shook his head, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "No, honestly. I've been straight my whole life."

Her smile deepened, amused and understanding, as she let the question hang between them. "Well, that explains a few things," she said, voice low and teasing. "But hey, wines get better when you expand your palate, right?"

The sudden openness between them broke down the last walls, and for a moment the noisy club felt like a quiet confessional--as if she were daring him to explore places he'd never dared to go before.

As the night wound down, the club's energy shifted from rowdy to mellow, the crowd thinning and the music softening to a low hum. The laughter and chatter faded into more intimate conversations, and the coach, now more relaxed and candid, pulled the team into a huddle.

"Time to wrap up, ladies. We are leaving so drink your water or hit the restroom, but I expect everyone by the front door in five." She then glanced over at him with a thoughtful expression.

"Look," she said, her voice steady, "it's pretty late, and you don't even know where your hotel is, right?"

He blinked, knowing that had never come up, but deciding to go with it. "Yeah... I think I got turned around somewhere."

She smiled, a mix of reassurance and no-nonsense practicality. "Then you're crashing at my room tonight. I have a suite for the meetings and that room has a couch that is all yours."

He hesitated, surprised but grateful, and nodded. The players around them barely raised an eyebrow; they'd long accepted their coach's straightforward nature and her lesbian identity. There was no second-guessing, no whispers or assumptions--just a shared understanding that their coach was looking out for someone who needed it, and by then, he had proved to them that he was harmless. Besides, she was a towering figure, bigger than him by a good margin, and everyone knew she'd be safe without a flicker of awkwardness. As the group gathered their things and began to spill out into the cool night air, there was an easy camaraderie about it all--a night's unexpected turn, a kindness extended without fanfare.

***

After the short walk back to their hotel and the goodbyes in the lobby and elevator, they got to the coach's room, which was decidedly large. The coach had insisted he take a shower--"You need it," she said simply, her tone brooking no refusal. He stepped into the bathroom, letting the warm water wash away the lingering alcohol of the night, the steam filling the hotel bathroom. Now, towel wrapped around his waist, he paused in the doorway, the quiet of the hotel settling around him. He stepped out of the shower and saw her by the couch, dressed in a light kimono-style bathrobe. In profile, the thin fabric offered a tantalizing glimpse of the generous curves beneath. Large breasts that were heavy but still had some lift to them and an equally sized gut that hung down to where the kimono bunched awkwardly around her hips.

From his spot near the bathroom door, he couldn't help but notice how the bathrobe's folds revealed the power in her legs--thick quadriceps and solid calves speaking to a strength he hadn't fully appreciated before. As she bent to pick something up from the coffee table, her broad hips and formidable build brought to mind the physique of a football lineman. He watched as she expertly worked the TV remote, queuing up music that filled the room with a low, steady rhythm.

Wrapping the towel even more securely around his waist, he stepped fully into the room just as she seemed pleased with her musical choice. She turned toward him, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"Stand there for a moment," she said.

He froze as she crossed the room and stood directly before him. He could feel her rising to her full height--still just slightly shorter than him, but with broader shoulders. Though he had always recognized somewhere in his brain that catalogs this stuff that she was a large woman, he now realized how she usually carried herself to downplay that difference. Now, standing there, she was unapologetically herself, in full glory. She laughed, that same enigmatic smile touching her lips, as if she read the thoughts in his mind.

"Don't move," she said, her tone serious enough to compel him to obey.

Her left hand reached out, pressing flat against the center of his chest. If she was listening for his heartbeat, it surged noticeably as he felt the warmth of her palm against the coolness of his skin.

She smiled again and her gaze flicked downward, fingers gliding to brush over his nipple. The contrast of heat and lingering moisture made him acutely aware of his undressed state, and both nipples stiffened under her touch. Sensing the subtle cue, she rolled one gently between her fingers, and the unexpected sensation caught him off guard. He felt the primal urge to move, but he dared not risk her stopping. Blood flowed rapidly to his groin--already causing him to lengthen beneath the towel. He wasn't sure how much longer he could resist; if she continued, he would be fully hard before long.

Leaning closer, she brought her breath to his chest--but instead of a kiss, she slowly blew on his other nipple, sending a shock that heightened his arousal. His balls felt crushed between his thighs; he wished to spread his legs to relieve the pressure.

Seeing his reaction, she straightened and met his eyes squarely, hands reaching for the towel. With a deft flick, it slipped free, and he stood naked before her.

What had been rising desire exploded into full excitement. His cock bobbed freely, swollen and hard, pulse pounding in the throbbing head. He knew when it finally came, this would be a fiery, intense orgasm.

She lowered her gaze briefly, boldly inspecting his erection without shame or embarrassment. The feeling was clinical yet electric--one of the most thrilling moments he'd had in a long time. Dropping to a comfortable squat, she looked closer, her eyes drinking him in. He thought she might take him into her mouth, but she simply studied him, watching as he flushed deeper shades of purple.

"What do you think?" he asked, hoping to break the spell.

She paused, lifted her eyes back to his, and held his gaze.

"Don't move means your lips too," she commanded softly. He felt himself grow even harder.

Her eyes returned to his cock, and he realized he was probably starting to drip--it had been a long time since he'd felt this turned on.

Satisfied that he was fully engorged and ready, she stood and sauntered over to the couch.

"I want a lap dance from you," she said, settling in the middle of the cushions.

He was eager to please, but he knew a lap dance would press his hard cock between her breasts, and with how wet he was already, he'd likely explode on her chest. Yet, she clearly savored the thrill of being in control--he wasn't sure how she'd feel if he lost all his.

His thoughts halted when she slid the kimono off her shoulders, revealing both breasts in full view. They were magnificent--although not normally a 'breast man,' he found them incredible. Then his eyes caught the thin orange dildo peeking from her lap: she was wearing a harness. As she shrugged off the rest of the robe and patted her lap, a new level of excitement surged through him.

He'd had received lap dances before and knew the worst that could happen was a soaked zipper from both the inside and the outside. Now, being the one to give the lap dance, he tried to think of all the moves he could make, but he could only think of ways to avoid getting penetrated.

Crossing the room, he tentatively knelt on one side of her, then cautiously swung his leg over to the other. Pressing his pelvis against her, he avoided any unintended poking from the rear and settled into a spot over her lap. He couldn't help but have his penis drag across her underboobs, leaving a trail of heavy pre-cum everywhere it touched.

From his position slightly above her, he looked down at her and she met his gaze with burning desire that made him feel like the center of her world. He wondered if dancers felt this connection, feeding off the customer's hunger--because he was thoroughly enjoying feeling like something delicious to a starving woman.

Her hands found the small of his back, pressing him close. His slick cock slid teasingly against her breasts, skin meeting lubricant in perfect harmony. He took several deep breaths to hold back his climax while she smiled knowingly. Her hands slid around, kneading his chest--a mix of pectoral massage and nipple play that surprised him with pleasure. The erotic moment overwhelmed him, and he lowered his head closer to hers--only to feel a gentle poke from behind.

The strap-on nudged his coccyx bone at the end of his spine. Knowing he had some room to maneuver, he slid down further, resting his face against hers as they exchanged breath. Her breathing grew ragged; she was clearly excited too. He wondered how often she experienced this, watching her face light up in small bursts of ecstasy made him crave her even more. Remembering, he shifted his hips to enhance the dance.

Her breath caught, and she pulled him in to bury her face in his chest. When her smooth, wet tongue found his nipple--after the rough finger play--he was overwhelmed. The other nipple was being tugged, pinched, lightly slapped. The thought of being 'manhandled' by this big, strong woman stoked him hotter than before.

He arched his back, breaking the contact between his cock and her slick stomach--only to feel the orange intruder pressing lower, dangerously close to his butthole. Squeezing his butt, he gripped the strap-on with his glute muscles to hold it in place--but it was already slick with lube and it slid right out of his grip.

He started wiggling in a weak dance on her lap that moved his cock between her breasts, but kept the slick intruder out of his ass. She kept staring up, locking eyes with him, and let that smile play around her lips again. That gaze sparked a connection beyond the physical--a shared longing that bound them. Feeling the openness between them, she placed both hands on his hips, firm and controlling, and gently pushed down.

He obeyed, sliding lower until the tip touched his hole. Holding his hips steady, she moved her hips to ease the strap-on around, and the sensation was electric to him. He had been rimmed before and knew that pleasure intimately, but this probing sensation, while similar, was way more intense. Seeing the pleasure flood his face, she reached up, grasped the back of his neck, and pulled him into their first kiss. It started tentative, then deepened as need took over--her moan muffled in his mouth sent fresh drips flowing from his cock.

He spread his knees to settle more firmly on her, and as she started tongue-fucking his mouth, she raised her hips slowly and the strap-on slid an inch deep. He'd never had anything inside before (except a soapy finger during a deep clean), and the new sensation opened a hidden realm of pleasure.

Their kissing intensified; when he grasped her breasts, she shuddered and pushed herself another inch inside him. The fullness was foreign but not uncomfortable, thanks to the strap's slim girth. Cradling her head in his hands, he began licking her face like a dog savoring cool water. She tilted back, granting him free reign over her face and neck.

A grunt escaped as she grabbed his hips and thrust upward. Though mostly filled, he was keenly aware of her excitement, how tightly she held him. Settling further onto her, strap-on fully inside, he felt waves of pleasure ripple through him as his prostate was tickled.

Suddenly her assault on his nipples resumed--slow withdrawal, then a powerful plunge into his ass--and he moaned aloud, unable to contain himself. Her mouth slid over to lick the corner of his armpit, picking up speed between thrusts. His cock was flowing freely now; her belly glistened with his pre-cum. The decadent licking and relentless pounding drove him to the edge.

She found her rhythm, guiding his hips up and down the pole. When he reached the point of no return, she held him firmly down on the whole of her fake cock, leaning back to look him in the eye as her two hands pushed her breasts together. The two mounds of warm slick flesh wrapped his cock in a warm embrace and he held his breath as the pleasure climbed to newfound heights for him.

When he finally exploded, it was like fireworks detonated in his head--blinding pleasure focused entirely on the throbbing head. He pumped release after release, her laughter of delight ringing in his ears as his vision cleared.

Catching his breath and feeling sticky evidence across their chests and some under her chin, he flushed with embarrassment over how much he'd enjoyed it. Before he could say anything awkward, she whispered, "Not yet."

She rolled him to his side without breaking contact and ended up on top of him with her arms on either side of his head. With his spent cock trapped between their bellies, the most comfortable thing to do was to raise his legs and wrap them around her midsection, which made her smile yet again. In this intimate embrace, her strength was unmistakable: hips wider than his, shoulders broad as well. Holding herself up over him, her arms flexed, prompting him to cling to her tightly like a baby marsupial clinging to its mother.

As she shifted her weight, he felt the strap-on still inside him. She began slow, teasing strokes, slowly pulling back and then pushing forward. He realized it must be double-ended; she was enjoying the thrusts as much as he was.

Loving that he could give her pleasure, he rocked his hips with her thrusts and reached up with his mouth, bathing her breasts with his tongue. Her growing pleasure stirred a new desire in him, and he found himself growing hard again; he hadn't expected to have anything left after his first explosive release.

She hooked one arm under his knee and pulled it up, splaying him open. The new angle intensified sensations on his prostate, and he felt delirious. He sought a kiss but she held her head high, intent on slowly increasing her speed. Unable to coax her down, he traced fingers over her lips. Instantly, her mouth opened and she started sucking them. This only drove his delirium higher, and he made no objection when she grabbed his other leg and pressed both knees to his shoulders, making him feel as open as he ever had been. Somehow, this level of exposure felt safe while he was tucked away under her weight and between her strong arms.

She used her weight to pin him open and to sink in as deeply as she could go for both of them. As she started bottoming out on him, he heard her breathing change--she was nearing climax. Desperate to give as much pleasure as she received, he kissed her shoulder and then started licking the folds of her armpit. She gasped and then shifted, easing weight off her arm, granting him better access, and he did not hesitate to bury his face in there and tongue everything he could. He used extra saliva and the broad side of his tongue to lick the tiny stubble under her arm like he was eating pussy when suddenly she stiffened; her orgasm seizing her. Clutching her tightly, and trying desperately to pull her even further into him, he felt his own wave break again. Though milder, it was just as intense. As she writhed on top of him in her orgasm, his trapped cock between their slick bellies, it ensured she milked every last bit of pleasure out of his balls.

Only when her arms collapsed, and she dropped onto him in exhaustion, could he free his legs to wrap around her again. While the sticky warmth dried between them, he stroked her back, heart swelling as she caught her breath.

"Welcome to my team."